Page 155 of The Prince's Curse

“Stand clear,” Lux said, her voice shaky. “That’s quite enough.”

He could no longer hear Stella and Kova outside, but he had to pray they would deal with the others, would keep Scarlett safe. Misha was their last hope.

Julian struggled against the sharp tethers, but they branched and twisted and pierced, weaving between his ribs and slithering along his veins. He shuddered and fell to his knees.

“Paris, listen to me,” he said, ignoring the taste of blood on the back of his tongue. “I came here for you. And I’m not leaving without you.”

He’d never been able to tell the difference between their bonds; it didn’t feel as if things had changed since becoming an Elder. Paris was part of him, connected close to his heart. And whatever Lux and Armina had done to him, it was still there.

His Vessel turned to him, eyes blank. Julian yanked on that bond, holding his gaze as he said, “Help me. Take her down. Let’s walk out of here together.”

“Nice try,” Lux said.

“Misha needs you,” Julian said. “And I need you. Follow where I lead, Paris. I am your Elder.” With every bit of hope he had, he pulled on that shredded, infected thread, poisoned as it was by Armina’s magic.

One of the witches let out a mocking laugh. Paris’s head tilted. Then he raised his blade, glaring down at Julian. He braced himself, but as Paris swung, the faintest glint of blue flickered in his eye.

He moved so fast it was nearly impossible to follow. One moment, Paris was swinging that blade down at Julian’s face, and the next, the blade was protruding from Lux’s chest. Paris roared in pain as his markings flared red-hot, but the witch was already on her back, crying out in agony. He growled wordlessly and crossed the room, then neatly sliced her throat with his blade before falling back to convulse violently.

Armina rose from her seat, eyes wide in shock. The shadowy trap holding Julian loosened, and he lurched to his feet. “This is my house,” she roared, the entire room trembling.

Jagged threads pierced him anew and yanked him down to his knees, winding around his wrists and ankles, holding him right where she wanted. As she strode toward him, the room darkened. Shadows roiled in the corners, pooling on the ceiling like smoke.

The witch drifted toward him, her dark hair lifting around her face in an unseen wind. A strange crackle still hung in the air, as if something was waiting. Her dark eyes landed on him with the force of a guillotine’s blade.

He held her gaze. Her cool hand cupped his chin and tilted his face up. “You didn’t bring her,” she said, her voice trembling.

“No,” he lied. Her head tilted, and one of those awful barbed tendrils twisted inside him. He arched, but lifted his head again to hold her gaze. “Please let me speak.”

“What will you do? Beg for your life? Please do.”

Buy time, he thought.

“No,” he said.“I want to?—”

Her head tilted, and she made a twisting gesture with one hand. Something sprouted inside his belly, pressing against his ribs. The pain was indescribable, and he lost himself in it. But there was no release, because when he closed his eyes, he saw Scarlett dying anew.

She lay in a sickbed convulsing and vomiting blood. In a flash, she walked across a street and into the path of a bus. Her skin split open over swelling veins. She died a thousand deaths before his eyes, and still it didn’t relent.

When he became aware of himself again, he saw a pool of blood on the tiled floor. His throat felt scraped raw, and he dimly realized he must have been screaming. Still, he lifted his gaze and said, “I came to apologize to you.”

Her dark brows furrowed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I know what it is to lose the person you love, and to lose the future you thought you had. I know what it is to hold onto memories that fade with each passing year,” he said. Her jaw ticked, and pain burst through his chest. Even with the sickening pain tearing through him, he held her gaze.

“Stop it,” she said in a shaking voice.

“And I’m sorry for causing you that sort of pain,” he said. “I mean it. No one should have to feel that.”

There was a strange flicker to her expression, as if his words had sunk in.“You should have thought of that before you took him.”

“Please let these people go. There are innocent people here who weren’t even born when Tobias died. They were?—”

Pain ripped through him again, and he could only double over and retch silently.

“Never say his name again,” Armina said. “I think I’ll keep them. And I think I’ll keep you, too, this time. When you’ve learned to behave, you can go and kill her the same way you killed him. Nice and slow.”

“Armina, please,” he said. Right at the edge of his hearing, he heard her.

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